


lonely as I am, together we cry

by holbywolfe



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluffy Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Serena being British and making tea, Therapy, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holbywolfe/pseuds/holbywolfe
Summary: Bernie books a flight because she has nothing left for her in Holby; books a flight because Serena is gone, because her trauma unit is gone, because her children are too caught up in their own lives.For berena appreciation week, for the Hurt/Comfort trope. Also I suck at summaries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again, trigger warning for self-harm and mental health issues.

Bernie books a flight because she has nothing left for her in Holby; books a flight because Serena is gone, because her trauma unit is gone, because Cameron is in London and Charlotte is wrapped up in her new boyfriend. She tells a somewhat reluctant Henrik that she has leave to take and that she’s not sure if or when she’ll be back.

 

She is dragged along to leaving drinks at Albie’s when all she wants to do is curl up into bed and weep; for Serena, for Elinor, for the life she’s built in Holby that no longer seems to suit – let alone want – her.

 

Her suitcase is only half filled; bare necessities are all she will take with her, are all she will need. She doesn’t plan to do anything remotely interesting or anything that will require nice clothes. She takes a taxi to the airport and tips the driver generously feeling as though she has no one else to be nice to left in her life.

 

Serena calls her when she’s in the departures lounge. They haven’t spoken much and the flash of her partner’s name – _are they still partners?_ – ignites a glimmer of hope in her otherwise empty chest.

 

“Berenice?” Serena’s shrill on the other end of the line makes Bernie smile, for the first time in a long time, even though she knows she’s most likely in some form of trouble. “Why didn’t you tell me about the trauma unit? What’s all this about leaving?”

 

_Ah._ Bernie reasons that Henrik or Ric must have called Serena and told her.

 

“Hello to you too,” she croaks, and knows that Serena has heard the tears in her voice.

“I, um, didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back,” she says, thinks that maybe it’s the right thing to say.

 

“I could have helped, Bernie. I could have stopped this.” As much as she hopes Serena could have, she knows that even her ability to charm the pants off just about anyone, Serena probably couldn’t have stopped this. Bernie tells her as much and Serena sighs. “Where are you going?”

 

“Paris,” Bernie says. She’s always wanted to go to Paris, thought that maybe she could have taken Cameron or Charlotte, but she knows that’s not going to happen now.

 

“I’ll meet you at the airport, when do you get in?” Serena says, and Bernie feels her heart clench and a wave of relief wash over her. She hadn’t known that Serena was in France, but she’d had an inkling. Bernie gives Serena her flight details and hangs up just as they call people up to board.

 

She had had the foresight to book business seats. Even though it’s a short flight she knows that her back wouldn’t have forgiven her if she hadn’t, and she couldn’t have relied on Serena to be at the other end to give her a massage. She hefts her carry-on into the overhead lockers, disregarding the tingle of pain in her arm as the movement stretches the wound she’s being trying to ignore for the past few days. She hopes Serena won’t notice it, hopes Serena won’t notice the fact that she’s lost a significant amount of weight and has some raw skin at the top of her thighs. She feels guiltier for the reason for doing it than the fact that she’s done it. She doesn’t think she’s gone through _anything_ compared to Serena, doesn’t think she has the right to feel the way she’s feeling.

 

The plane touches down and Paris is sunny, but Bernie doesn’t really know if it’s the actual sun or if everything is a bit warped in her head because she knows she will see Serena soon.

She gets her bag down and says a quiet word of thanks to the flight attendant standing at the front of the plane.

 

Serena is waiting for her when she comes out, standing there in her signature blouse and trousers, a smile shining its way to Bernie; drawing her in. She feels herself get wrapped into a warm hug, again ignores the pain in her arm as she wraps it tightly around Serena. She pulls away and realises both of them are crying, but Serena is smiling and it’s enough to convince Bernie that everything might just be alright.

 

“Hey,” Serena says, reaching up to wipe a tear from Bernie’s cheek.

 

“Hey.” Serena takes her hand and leads her out of the airport, into a waiting taxi and then into her apartment.

 

She makes tea and they sit on the couch and share a pastry, talking about Serena’s travels so far and about people at the hospital. After a while of talking, Serena shuffles toward Bernie and lifts a leg to straddle her. Bernie’s smirk turns into a wince when Serena rests down and brushes her thighs, the friction on the painful skin sending a twinge of pain through her. Serena lets out a deep breath and nods, gets off Bernie’s lap, sits down next to her and tangles their fingers together. Bernie looks shamefully away from Serena; over to the wall to hide her bleary eyes.

 

“I know, Bernie,” she says, squeezing the hand in her own as she sees the blonde’s body shake slightly beside her. “Raf told me.” Bernie whips her head around and looks at her, bewilderment and pain written on her face.

 

Serena reaches back and unbuttons Bernie’s cuff on her left arm, slides up the sleeve and sighs when she sees the start of an angry red laceration on Bernie’s arm. She sighs and Bernie turns her head away, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Serena stands up and holds out a hand, and Bernie reaches up to take it shakily; lets herself be led into Serena’s bedroom and lets herself be tenderly undressed. Serena sighs again when she strips off Bernie’s jeans and sees the red at the top of her thighs.

 

“Bernie,” she breaths, looks up into her eyes and sees the fear barely hidden behind the tears. “When?”

 

“A month, maybe more,” Bernie croaks, and Serena can’t help but feel slightly guilty for not being there to notice, to do something about it. “I just-”

 

“I know,” Serena cuts in, starting to rub some salve into the tops of her thighs and Bernie winces. “I just wish you’d told me.”

 

“You know why I couldn’t,” Bernie says, and Serena nods solemnly.

 

“You’re seeing my therapist tomorrow, no arguments.” Bernie nods and Serena pushes her gently into bed, curls around her and breaths in the familiar scent. And for the first time in a while, Bernie feels content enough to allow herself to sleep with a faint smile on her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Serena wakes Bernie with light kisses to her cheeks the next morning. Bernie opens her eyes slowly and looks over at Serena; her cropped silvery hair and warm eyes. She thinks she’s seen more of those warm eyes in the past twelve hours than she has since New Year, takes it as a good sign that Serena is slowly healing, piece by piece. When Serena notices she is awake, she smiles a smile equally as warm as her eyes, and Bernie feels her chest tighten. Serena kisses her then, long and slow, gentle and caring. Bernie smiles a little into the kiss and Serena moves a hand to Bernie’s chest; slowly trailing over her breast through the material of her top.

“Are you okay with this, darling?” Serena asks, and Bernie nods gently, trying not to pull too far away from the feeling of Serena’s lips that she has missed so much these past few months. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she replies, and feels Serena’s hand become more determined in the circles it’s making around her nipple.

Bernie gasps when Serena moves down and replaces her fingers with her mouth, laving her dusty nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. She feels Serena’s blunt nails trail down the skin of her abdomen, her muscles quivering.

“Is this okay?” Serena whispers against her nipple as her fingers move down to roll Bernie’s clit. She didn’t realise how much she had missed this; being with Bernie this way. She has by no means gone without satisfaction while she’s been away, has touched herself while thinking of Bernie on a regular enough basis. But nothing compares anymore to being with Bernie, to watching her blonde hair fanned out on a pillow, or on her stomach while she eats her out, to watching the minute reactions and listening to the little mews.

“Yes,” Bernie breathes, her muscles contracting and her clit aching under Serena’s fingertips. She suddenly feels the need to feel Serena too, and reaches down to between Serena’s legs to find a hand already there. “Can I?” Bernie asks, and Serena nods and pulls her hand away from between her own legs, starts focusing on the movements she’s making with her other hand.

“Can you-” she starts, but is cut off by a moan when Bernie enters her, two fingers curling gently and her palm rolling her clit. “Yes,” she moans, speeding up her circles on Bernie’s clit and contracting around Bernie’s fingers. “I love you so much, you feel so good,” she husks, and Bernie’s back arches and she comes, Serena bringing her now-free hand down to rub her own clit to send her over the edge too.

“What a way to wake up,” Bernie says after they’ve had a chance to regain their breath. “Thank you.” She smiles.

“My pleasure,” Serena says, then rises from their cocoon and makes her way into the small bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping in.

 

Bernie is waiting, dressed, in the bedroom when she comes out, towelling her hair dry and slipping a blouse over her shoulders. Bernie hands her a steaming cup of coffee when she has a free hand, and she hums into the warmth. Bernie is smiling up at her and she realises she still hasn’t buttoned up her blouse, looks down and realises the opening is not covering much and Bernie has a front row view of her cleavage.

“Enjoying the view, Griselda?”

“Very much so, _Wendy.”_

Serena huffs and buttons up the coral top, watching the way Bernie’s eyes track the movement of her fingers until they look up into her eyes and she sees the hurt that Bernie has been hiding, the hurt that they have been ignoring all morning in favour of ignorant bliss. Serena decides to address the elephant in the room, head on, so to speak.   

“I called and made you an appointment, I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous,” she says. Bernie looks at her from under her fringe and Serena relents and goes to sit next to her on the bed. “You’ll get through this, darling, with or without me, you’ll do it.” 

“Can it be with you?” She can see the fear in Bernie’s eyes. The fear of having to do it alone, without Serena.

“Of course, always,” she says, leaning in to gently kiss the corner of Bernie’s mouth.

 

Serena takes her for a walk around the area before her appointment, thinks that the fresh air will do her some good before she (hopefully) talks about her feelings to a complete stranger. When the time nears, they meander towards the building Serena has spent so long in, and Serena books her in while Bernie sits nervously on the couch.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” she asks, and Bernie looks at her with those eyes and she knows she so badly wants to say yes, but she also knows that Bernie needs to do this by herself, for herself. There are things she might tell this therapist that she doesn’t feel ready to tell Serena yet, things she doesn’t feel ready to tell anybody yet. Serena nods and when the therapist comes out and walks towards them and quickly presses a kiss to Bernie’s cheek before nudging her off.

 

Bernie comes out after an hour with her face red and her eyes bleary. She reaches for Serena and Serena happily obliges, grasping Bernie’s hand between her own as they make their way out the door and back to the metro station. She doesn’t pry, because Bernie will tell her when she wants to, _if_ she wants to, she certainly knows that she wouldn’t want to be barraged with questions after her sessions.

 

Bernie doesn’t talk to her the whole way home and she’s okay with that. But when they get through the front door and she goes into the kitchen to make tea, she hears Bernie choke back a sob. She lets her have the time and later finds Bernie curled into herself in the middle of the bed, her eyes raw from crying and her knees cuddled to her chest.

 

“Tea?”Bernie nods and sniffles, and Serena deposits the tea on the bedside table before sitting down on the bed and pulling Bernie’s head into her lap.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be acting like this, not after everything you’ve -”

“Berenice, don’t apologise for the way you feel, regardless of what I’ve gone through,” Serena interrupts, and Bernie nods against her lap. “I love you so much, never forget that.”

Bernie nods and Serena shuffles down to get comfortable, then curls herself around Bernie’s still fully clothed body, breathing in the scent that is so purely _Bernie,_ as she lets herself fall asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I was going to add this chapter but here we are. If people want more let me know. I though I'd add in some of my beta's comments because she writes pretty hilarious things: 'laving her dusty nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt' got the comment: 'THAT GIF OF THE LADY WAVING HER ARMS IN THE AIR LIKE WHAT' and tbh I'm still confused about that one too. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm at that low point in my life that I'm writing proposal fic

“Why didn’t you talk to someone before?” Serena asks. They are sitting at her kitchen island sharing a pastry and Bernie cannot quite meet her gaze.

“Because I didn’t want to,” she croaks, and Serena casts her gaze down and nods, then reaches out a hand to Bernie’s and twines their fingers together. “I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay, come on,” Serena says, tugging gently on Bernie’s hand and leading them to the bedroom. Like the first night, she slowly strips Bernie’s jeans off and sits her down on the bed, then starts the painful task of rubbing salve into the slowly-healing scratches lining the top of her thighs. She rids Bernie of her shirt and bra, and places a tender kiss to her collarbone before settling her under the duvet. “Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Bernie wakes up sick. She rolls over and groans when her larynx doesn’t cooperate, her throat dry and painful. She’s been so stoic these past few months without Serena, and now everything is coming back to bite her.

“You’re not going anywhere like that, Berenice,” Serena chastises, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth. She goes to rub Bernie’s arm affectionately, but she winces as soon as she touches her skin and she pulls away.

“Skin hypersensitivity, fever, blocked sinuses, sore throat, weakness, I could go on forever. It’s classic flu, Bernie.” Bernie groans and reaches for the water Serena had placed on the bedside table, taking a small sip and wincing when she swallows.

“I don’t want to waste the time I have here,” Bernie croaks, and Serena huffs and rolls her eyes. “It’s important.”

“I know, Bern, but you’re not well, I don’t want you putting yourself under any more stress than you are already,” Serena says. She hasn’t seen Bernie sick before, only nursing a hangover after a particularly heavy night at Albie’s, but the usually enduring Bernie seems so defeated by it, by the fact that she isn’t at the top of her game.

 

She spends the day delivering Bernie cups of tea and kisses, and by evening Bernie is feeling well enough to want to go for a walk. She puts on the pink coat she knows Serena loves, because she can pull on the lapels and draw Bernie in to kiss her so very easily, and they walk out of the apartment and to a nearby park. They stroll for a while, before Serena suddenly stops and pulls on Bernie’s hand. They turn a corner and the large metal structure looms over them, and Bernie beams despite her sore throat and sore head.

“I knew you were up to something,” she says, and Serena smiles before pulling her over to a patch of grass with a good view.

“The light show starts in a bit, you feeling well enough to stay?” Bernie nods and leans over to press a kiss to the corner of Serena’s mouth.

“Did anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” Bernie says, her eyes still fixed on the lights, and Serena laughs from beside her.

“Just admiring the view,” Serena flirts.

 

When the light show finishes, Serena stands and leads Bernie to some nearby gardens, benches scattered around under looming trees.

“I need to say something,” Serena whispers, and Bernie turns fully to look at her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and you don’t have to, but I need you to know that you can.”

“I know, I just want to get it all worked out in my head, is that okay?” Serena nods and leans over to kiss her, the light peck turning into a languid kiss. While she has Bernie distracted, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the black velvet box she’s been hiding, then slips it into Bernie’s hand when she pulls away.

Bernie looks at her with confusion evident on her face as she slowly opens the box, “Is this what I think it is?” she asks, and Serena puffs out a breath of air.

“It can be, if you want it to be, but if you think I’ve jumped the gun just-”

“I want it to be,” Bernie interrupts, and Serena laughs, laughs with a grin so wide she shines through the darkness.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, I quite think I do,” Bernie says, with a smile equally as bright as Serena’s, and then leans over and captures her lips in a slow kiss.

 They walk back to Serena’s apartment with their fingers entwined. She smiles every time her fingers brush the cold ring on Bernie’s finger, and she finds herself unable to stop looking at Bernie, _her fiancé._

 

Bernie pins her up against the bedroom door once they are back at Serena’s apartment, laving kisses to her neck and slipping a thigh between hers. Serena groans and gyrates down on Bernie’s thigh.

 “Keen, are we?” Bernie asks, taking in the flush covering Serena’s neck and what is exposed of her chest.

“Please,” she growls, and Bernie sheds her blouse and trousers before walking them both over to the bed. She lays Serena down on the bed and straddles her, taking off her blouse and then starting to place wet, hot kisses across her breasts. Serena whimpers and tugs Bernie up so that she’s at eye level, and brings their mouths together. Bernie hums into the kiss, bringing her left hand down to knead Serena’s breast, pinching her nipple then switching her attention to the other breast. Bernie reaches behind her to unclasp Serena’s bra and slips it off her shoulders, throwing it behind them to the end of the bed. She moves onto her pants next, running her fingers along the inside of the waistband before tugging them off her hips.

 Bernie moves herself from Serena and settles beside her, hooking one thigh over hers to spread her legs. She begins to trace patterns across Serena’s shoulders with her fingers, moving down to her breasts and flicking her nipples. Serena whimpers and Bernie starts to move down her stomach, making swirly patterns before moving to Serena’s vulva, pressing her fingers hard against her clit. Serena moans and her hips grind upwards, and Bernie chuckles and uses her thigh, still draped across Serena’s to press her back down. 

“Yes,” Serena whimpers, and Bernie keeps up the steady circles she’s making on her clit.

“Faster?” Serena nods and Bernie increases her pace, pressing down harder too, and Serena cries out again. Despite Bernie’s best efforts her hips lift up, pressing her clit harder against Bernie’s fingers. Serena comes with a whine and continues to jerk as Bernie pushes her through it, pepping reassuring kisses to her shoulder as she continues to ride the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“Yes,” she says again, once she’s regained the ability to speak. Bernie chuckles and drops turns her head and kisses her.

“Your turn?” Serena asks, and Bernie groans and rolls over to face Serena, kissing her again as she starts to tease Serena’s nipples. Serena halts her movements and sits up on the bed, reaching over to her bedside cabinet for their double ended dildo she had brought with her.

“Can I?” she asks, gesturing to the wearer end of the dildo then to herself. Bernie nods and sits up facing her.

Serena moves to sit against the headboard with her legs crossed, drizzling some lube on the length of the wearer’s end, she watches Bernie’s face; flushed and lustful. She moves the dildo down and slowly inserts it, letting out a shuddery breath as the length fills her. She reaches down and adjusts the angle of which the other end is pointing, and whimpers when the tugging action presses the curved tip against her g-spot.

“Come sit,” she says, and Bernie straddles her crossed legs, holding the headboard behind Serena for support. She slowly lowers herself down onto the dildo, furrowing her brows and moaning when her clit presses down on the textured base. Serena reaches between them and presses the end of the bullet in the dildo, feeling the rumbling vibrations all the way up the length and focusing on her g-spot. Bernie starts to roll her hips, and Serena uses her hand to press the toy further into herself, making sure it doesn’t slip out. Bernie starts moaning every time her hips roll a certain way, and Serena realises her mouth is at the perfect height to tease Bernie’s nipples.

“Ah fuck,” Bernie groans as Serena takes one of her nipples into her mouth, she starts to move up and down as well as rolling her hips, which puts more pressure on Serena’s g-spot. Bernie finds a particular angle that works well for her, every thrust pressing simultaneously on her clit and g-spot.

 Serena is left feeling a little underwhelmed, the toy filling her and applying delicious pressure, but leaving her clit throbbing, unattended. She can tell Bernie is close, won’t be able to hold back much longer to wait for Serena, so she brings her hand down to her own clit and rubs, finally getting the feeling she craves. Throwing her head back against the headboard, moaning, she feels herself start to clench around the toy, then notices Bernie’s hips are in an uneven rhythm and then they are both coming, together, gasps and moans and cries mingled until they can’t figure out which ones came from who.

 

 

“Will you please talk to me?” Serena says when they are curled around each other a while later; sticky and sated in post-coital bliss.

“It’s just,” Bernie starts, and Serena hears her take a deep breath before she continues, “I just. I love you so much,” she says, and Serena nods from behind her and peppers gentle kisses to her back, shoulders, neck.

“I know you do, and I love you too, but I want to be able to help you and you need to talk to me,” she says, her words interrupting the kisses she’s dotting on Bernie’s back.

“It’s just the nights,” Bernie whispers, her voice thick with the effort not to cry. “It’s the nightmares and I thought they’d go away but without you they didn’t and, and I just felt so _alone,_ without you.” Serena feels Bernie start to shake in her arms, and she rolls her over to face her, then pulls her in to cradle her against her chest.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” she murmurs into Bernie’s hair. Bernie sniffles and Serena can feel her tears making wet patches on the fabric of her shirt.

 

She waits until she hears Bernie’s breathing even out before she lets herself drift off, but when she stirs awake hours later in the dead of night, Bernie is gone.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Bernie wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. She can see Serena sleeping peacefully next to her but she feels everything but peaceful. Anxiety attacks have been a regular occurrence since Serena left, and she normally resorts to the cry-it-out method, then falls back into a fitful sleep. But she can’t do that now, with Serena next to her, so she does what Bernie Wolfe does best: she runs. 

 

 

~

 

 

 

Serena jolts awake properly when she realises the bed is cold beside her, when she realises that the blonde mop of hair is no longer buried in the crook of her neck.

 

She stumbles around the room looking for Bernie, looking for the woman who became her fiancé last night, the woman she loves so very much, but that woman is nowhere to be seen. When she goes into the kitchen Bernie still isn’t there, and she can’t hear anything from the bathroom or the living room. Sitting there, on a stool, where Bernie would normally sit, is a yellow sticky note with two splotches that look like dried tears.

 

It reads: _‘I’m sorry.’_

Serena realises what has happened, and runs back into the bedroom and frantically feels Bernie’s side of the bed. It’s cold. She must have gone a while ago. Bernie has taken her duffel bag with her, and Serena’s built up tears begin to spill over when she sees that Bernie has left behind her engagement ring. She curls up in the centre of the bed and weeps. Her daughter is gone, her job, and now her fiancé, her _Bernie._

She knows that Bernie is not in a good place, that something must have happened for her to do this, but the lack of the blonde and the lack of things she’s left behind make her increasingly worried. When she opens her bedside drawer, she notices her pocket knife is missing. _Fuck._

 

As much as she hates it, she cannot do much now other than wait. There’s no use going out in the dead of night to look for her, she has no idea where Bernie would go. She opens her eyes and sees her phone on the bedside table. It’s really her only chance until morning comes.

 

She unlocks her phone and sees that it’s four in the morning. _Too early._ Bernie has sent her no texts, and when she checks Facebook she has not been active recently. Serena frantically types out a text, her hands shaking and her eyes blurry.

 

_‘Are you okay? Where’d you go? Call me please.’_ She sends. When Bernie doesn’t reply after a few minutes she tries again.

 

_‘Bernie?’_

_‘Please call me.’_

_‘Are you okay?’_

_‘Berenice?’_

When Bernie neither sees her messages or replies, she decides her phone must be off. It doesn’t help to calm her nerves though, and the fact that Bernie left behind the ring is making Serena’s heart hurt a little every time she thinks about it.

 

If Bernie at some point turns her phone on, Serena at least wants her to know the truth: that she loves her, _so much,_ so she decides to call and leave a voicemail. As she predicted, it rings out, and she steels herself for the beep.

 

“Bernie, it’s me. It’s four in the morning and I’ve just woken up and you’re not here. Please tell me you’re okay, I need you to be okay. I know what you took and I know what you left behind, please just call me. I love you.”

 

Serena doesn’t sleep after that, just lies curled into a tight ball and cries. At first loud, ugly sobs, but then developing into silent weeping. When first light starts to beam through the curtains, she groans. Her eyes hurt and she is exhausted, but today she has a job to do; a woman to find.

 

 

~

 

 

Bernie walks the dark streets of Paris until morning; duffel bag slung over her shoulder and phone insistently buzzing in her pocket. When it opens, she books herself into a nice-looking hotel, under the name of Serena Campbell. If Serena does come looking for her, she will ask for a Bernie Wolfe, but Bernie Wolfe will not exist in this hotel. When she gets to her room she goes straight for the bed; curls herself up in the centre and pulls her phone from her pocket, throwing it across the room before she can read any of Serena’s messages.

 

_Worthless._

She looks across the room at her duffel bag, sees the flash of crimson red on the metal of the pocket knife and grimaces at herself.

 

_Burden._

All she wanted to do was love Serena, and she has, _she does._ But she can’t help the feeling that she will forever weigh her down, that Serena would be so much lighter without her, without her feelings and insecurities and problems.

 

_Useless._

Bernie isn’t sure if the tears are fresh or not. She can’t really remember what it feels like to not be crying anymore, because she has been either crying or hyperventilating since she

woke up this morning.

 

_Bitch._

~

 

 

There is a hotel five minutes’ walk from Serena’s apartment. She checks there first; asks the pretty woman standing at reception if anyone named Bernie Wolfe has checked in recently. She says no. As do the next three she asks.

 

Feeling deflated and hopeless, she continues around Paris until she finds herself at her therapist’s office. She doesn’t have an appointment today, nor does Bernie, but he might be able to offer some insight. Luckily enough, she catches him on his break, and he listens patiently with a solemn look on his face whilst she explains the situation.

 

“Obviously, I cannot break patient confidentiality too much, but she did say that she was scared of hurting you, of not being good enough,” he says, and Serena huffs out a breath, before thanking him and making her way out.

 

“Good luck!” He calls out as she closes the door behind her.

 

She goes to a little café to compose herself before she sets off again in the afternoon. She checks her phone again. Bernie has still not texted back, or even seen her messages. And she can’t help the niggling at the back of her mind telling her that _Bernie is not okay,_ but she brushes it off because thoughts like that will not help her now. 

 

_‘I can’t find you, please call me.’_ She sends, then before she can think better of it, types out another short message.

 

_‘I love you.’_

She presses send, and waits. But Bernie still doesn’t text back. She doesn’t know what else to do, but she sees a message thread with Fletch from a while back, and decides to ask him for help.

 

“Aya boss,” he chirps into the phone when he picks up, and Serena smiles slightly at the familiar accent.

 

“Hi, Fletch, I was wondering if I could ask for some help?”

 

“Sure thing,” he says, then he must cover the phone with his hand because the next sentence is muffled, but Serena can still hear it. “Raf, it’s Serena on the phone, entertain the kids for a while would ya?” She then hears the unmistakable sound of lips against lips, and smiles a brighter smile to herself.

 

“It’s Bernie, I proposed last night and she said yes, but I woke up and she wasn’t there. I can’t find her, Fletch,” she says, choked by the tears that have been threatening to spill all morning. “I’ve looked in three hotels close to my flat but she hasn’t checked in, and-” She is cut off by a sob that breaks free, and Fletch sighs from the other end of the line. “She’s left the engagement ring behind.”

 

“Have you tried a different name?” Fletch asks, as if he has dealt with many of these situations before, and Serena frowns in confusion.

 

“A different name?”

 

“Yeah, I’m guessing you tried ‘Bernie Wolfe’, but maybe you should try something else?” Serena realises Fletch is right. She also remembers the receptionist at the second hotel giving her a weird look when she had flashed her ID when asking about Bernie before.

 

“Thank you, Fletch, I’ve got to go,” she says, getting up out of her chair and waving to the barista before breezing out the door and back down the way she came.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, I think I’m looking for Serena Campbell,” she says to the confused receptionist once she gets back to the second hotel. She slowly nods and hands her a slip of paper with the room number and a key card, and Serena thanks her profusely before sashaying into the lift and up to the sixth floor.

 

 

~

 

 

Bernie thought Serena wouldn’t find her; thought her little trick with their names was smart enough to deter her, but as Serena comes bursting through the door with a livid expression on her face Bernie realises she could never really be truly far from her.

 

“Berenice _bloody_ Wolfe, do not even try me. I have been walking around all day trying to find you, and here you are, using my own fucking name to trick me into thinking you’re not here.” Bernie turns her face shamefully into the pillow and the movement shuffles things around, and then Serena notices it.

There is her pocket knife, sitting on the bedside table, crimson stained with what she assumes is Bernie’s blood, and under Bernie’s left arm is a bloody patch on the pressed white sheets of the bed.

 

“Bernie, you’re bleeding,” she says, and runs to the bathroom to fetch a hand towel, _probably not the most sterile thing,_ and presses it to the gash on Bernie’s arm. The tears falling from the blonde’s face are making a patch equally as big as the blood, and Serena feels her stomach churn slightly at the sight before her. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, I’m here,” she whispers.

 

“Please leave me alone,” Bernie murmurs, and Serena fights the lump in her throat and the stinging behind her eyes. “Please,” she cries, and Serena has to forcibly keep her hand clamped around Bernie’s bleeding arm as not to encourage the bleeding. “I’ll only hurt you, please go.”

 

Serena properly realises why Bernie ran now; Bernie sees herself as a burden, as something that will weigh Serena down for the rest of her life, as someone that isn’t worth Serena’s effort, Serena’s _love._

 

“I’m staying, I love you, I’m staying,” she says, and slips the ring back onto Bernie’s finger with little protest. “And so are you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Also idek what ao3 is doing with my line spacing so please forgive me, hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one to finish it off, I really struggled making this longer.

Serena had supported a crumpled Bernie the way down the stairs and into the waiting taxi. Had held her slumped form against her the drive back to her apartment.

 

When they had returned, Serena had walked Bernie to the bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed. Bernie, again, had let her strip her clothes off, and then had let Serena wrap her in her silk robe and sit her down in the bathroom.

  
“I’m going to have to clean this Bern, then it might need sutures,” Serena had said, and pulled her med kit down from the top shelf of the cabinet. She had carefully cleaned the wound with saline and gauze, and Bernie had patiently allowed her, the tears still streaming down her face. She decided against sutures, and gently closed the gash with steri-strips, then covered it with a large dressing. “You’re alright, I’ve got you,” she remembers Serena whispering, and Serena had slipped a hand round the back of Bernie’s neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Is there anything else?” Bernie had shaken her head and Serena had helped her up and into the bedroom, then had laid her down on the bed and curled around her.

 

 

“I’m so sorry you found me like that,” Bernie had whispered a while later, “I didn’t think you’d find me at all.”

 

“I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Fletch. He suggested that you might be using a different name, I never would have thought of that.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Bernie said, and Serena could hear the tears that were no doubt flowing freely from her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to run, and next time I want you to feel like you can tell me.”

 

 

~

 

 

It’s not that Bernie hadn’t felt loved before in her life. Her father had loved her as soon as she had said she was joining the army, her mother from the day she was born, and of course Marcus had loved her. Marcus was nice, kind, loving, but the problem was that he was _just nice._ Bernie had loved him, but she had never been _in love_ with him. Not in the same way she was in love with Alex. Not in the way she is now in love with Serena.

 

Serena’s love makes her feels so utterly _full,_ when she feels otherwise empty _,_ so utterly bubbly that _finally_ there is something to fight with the voices in her head.  Serena’s tender kisses and touches make her feel so cared for, so loved, so _sated._ And she can’t remember a time when Marcus ever made her feel like that, or when Alex had.

 

She can see what remains of their little family they have built together, smiling and giggling and euphoric. Jason is with them, next to Cameron, and he is positively radiant. Charlotte is smiling too, and Bernie thinks that apart from Serena, her daughter has the most beautiful smile in the world. Bernie sometimes can’t quite believe that she made this girl, this girl that has achieved so much despite the happenings of her family, this girl who is making Bernie gleeful with pride every day that she lives. She can see Serena setting off in front of her, Hanssen on her arm. Serena looks so happy, and for a moment she selfishly forgets Elinor, forgets the now-silvery scars on her thighs, and she takes in the pure bliss that is Serena.

 

She looks over at Ric, beside her, his steady grip on her arm keeping her from running. But she doesn’t think she needs it anymore. Here, in this pressed suit, she feels grounded, she feels safe, she feels at _home._

 

Ric gives her a final reassuring nod, and with that, she sets off down the aisle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming with me on this journey of my first ever multi-chapter! I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you have any ideas for (possibly?) a next one.


End file.
